Guérir
by Canadino
Summary: Healing took many forms, especially when whatever you had to heal from was something that tore you apart and scattered the pieces. Brinker/Leper, implied Finny/Gene


**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: --

Guérir 

After the war was over, he would not go back home. He does not want to hear his father tell old war stories and finish with a disappointed look at the failure of his son to collect more colorful tales. He does not want his mother to dote on him – her war-torn son! – and pretend that he had not had to face the world that a child his age shouldn't have, at least not yet. So when he returns home, he visits briefly, collects his things, and sets out to find his place in the world.

He was not deported; he did not have to leave the safety between the borders of the country. He had not been expecting an easy life, so he hunkered down and pretended he knew what he was doing, that he was control of everything. Just as he is now – in control. He likes being in control, to walk on solid ground. Brinker Hadley buys himself an apartment in a typical city and disappears into obscurity.

He is still young and his life is just beginning, but when he opens the door as he does his mind, he finds Leper Lepellier standing there, staring back at him behind dirt-smeared glasses, a half smile on his face and his terrified frame cocooned under a weathered hunting jacket. "I looked you up," he says softly, "and Gene told me." This Leper is different from the others that Brinker remembers; the tears don't come as easily anymore. Leper invites himself in and wanders around the apartment, brushing things over with his fingers.

Brinker calls the Lepellier house and hears his old classmate's mother tell him in hushed tones that he had set out for the city and could he please keep watch over him, because Elwin has not been himself fully since he came back from the camp. He wants to say no, but as a gentleman, he must honor the wishes of her, and he doesn't know if he can bring himself to cart Leper back to the empty wilderness. When he hangs up, Leper turns to him, a desperate look in his eyes although Brinker doesn't know what Leper wants.

He brings Leper to church, because when they were young, Leper was calm in chapel. Brinker bows his head in reverent prayer but Leper keeps his chin up, staring aimlessly forward as light streams in through stained glass and the choir's voices soar to the heavens. Leper neither stands when the congregation rises nor leaves the pew to receive the Son of Man's body. Brinker wonders what is holding Leper's attention for so long but knows better than to ask.

When the crowd of parishioners trickle out, Brinker waits for Leper to snap out of his reverie, but he never does. He nudges the unresponsive young man, asks him quietly to come with him, snaps his fingers in front of his face. Finally, he takes Leper's hand and tries to pull him to his feet; the only reaction he receives is brief. Leper turns to the hand in his and looks up at him. "Jesus died for our sins," he says simply.

"I know."

"Because it was dark, we needed a light to guide our way." Leper allows himself to be led out of church by Brinker. His eyes remain at the front, staring up at the large wooden cross, a distant look in his eyes. Even when they are outside, Leper's eyes drag slowly away from the high steeples. All of a sudden, he squeezes Brinker's hand, reminding the latter that they are still holding hands. Brinker lets go and starts for his car. Leper follows slowly behind.

The shower has been running for a while now. The first ten minutes, Brinker is not concerned; but when the ten minutes eventually started to add up and the water had not stopped, he goes to the bathroom and knocks. When there is no answer, he opens the door, unsure of what to expect. He hopes Leper has not drowned himself, or slit his wrists. There was no indication of suicidal behavior, and he reminds himself of this before pulling the shower curtain back.

Leper is sitting under the showerhead, huddled as the water falls over him. It is no longer warm. Still he sits, his wet glasses dripping and his fair hair plastered against his forehead. Brinker turns the water off and wraps a towel around the silent figure and leads him, dripping, into the next room. He rubs the towel and offers his own warmth, as Leper starts shivering uncontrollably. He sits Leper on the bed and waits for him to tend to himself. When Leper makes no movement, Brinker makes a sound of inconvenience and dries him off briskly, going to find suitable clothes before Leper catches his death.

He remembers one other time when Leper was irresponsible like this; the time of the spring storms back in Devon, when he saw the boy wandering around in the rain. He had forced Leper, dripping and flushed, under his umbrella and walked him back to his dorm. There must be something, Brinker thinks, about water that naturalists love. Leper's eyes are wet, and Brinker is willing to believe that he didn't do a very good job about wiping the water away the first time.

When Leper sucks him off the first time, Brinker remembers his eyes being so hollow, so empty. The room is dark; snatches of the previous conversation before this, _this_ happened linger in the air like so many atoms. Brinker remembers having control, before Leper kissed him, distracted him and pulled down his pants. He still has control, doesn't he, now with Leper at his knees and his mouth at work?

"Brinker," Leper says, this voice choked with tears Brinker cannot see in the darkness. He wants to say something back, although he doesn't know what, but Leper tends to him again and he knows he is close to release. Quickly he pulls away because he is educated about how unsafe this can become but a stray thought distracts him and he accidentally makes a mess of himself on Leper. His breath is harsh and he tries to pull Leper up, but Leper doesn't budge, just staring aimlessly without making a movement to clean himself up.

So Brinker sinks down and licks himself off Leper's face. Between his awkward taste, he detects wet salty tears running down Leper's face and feels Leper shiver against him. In the serendipitous movement of his tongue, their mouths meet. Leper's mouth tastes like shame and forest air.

Brinker is a man of science. He knows what makes the sun rise and set in the horizon. He knows the processes that make trees turn different colors and lose their leaves. He knows that if water runs over a rock for long enough, the rock will be rubbed smooth. He knows it is gravity that brings him down against Leper, pressing the latter gently into the mattress as he kisses him. He knows man's anatomical structure and the chemical reactions that make Leper moan in his ear when he touches him a certain way. He knows why eyes turn out a certain way that needs glasses, glasses lying haphazardly on the bedside table.

What he doesn't know is how Leper's eyes shine so brightly below him in the safety of the room, and why he whispers, "No, don't," when his eyes clearly say, _yes, please_. He doesn't know which to listen to.

Leper was never one with words but he opens his mouth and speaks, softly, about how while he was listening to the corporal talk to him, how the corporal got in his face, how he saw so many other faces because everything was happening so fast and his own, frightened, when the corporal pushed him against the wall. How he called out but no one heard and the corporal just told him to be quiet, he would make it fast and the man with the cough found them but he didn't stop it, he just joined too and so many things were happening at once and so many hands were grabbing at him. Quieter now, how he tried to tell Gene but Gene didn't listen, didn't _want_ to listen and fled and there was no one to talk to because these things you don't just tell your mother.

Brinker listens, feels the gravitational pull lessen as he is sucked into the vacuum of the words, but Leper's arms pull him back. "But I always thought…I told Gene…I never did…you," he says finally, the weight of the word falling heavily between them. "You," he whispers again, pulling Brinker down against him, skin against skin, "were the one I came back for. Not Finny, not Gene, not anybody."

Brinker kisses his forehead, promises to be gentle, and forgets the technical aspects that make Leper gasp his name in the void that is quickly filled with lust and sweat and completeness.

Leper does not want to press charges; no, he wants to go back to a time when he could sit in the park and stare at butterflies as they make their unpredictable way through the air. So Brinker brings him to the local wildlife center. It is cold that morning so Brinker makes Leper wear a coat and a scarf (to cover up that love bite anyway). They sit on a bench in the middle of a peninsula jutting out in the large pond, huddled together for warmth. At that early in the morning, the dew still sparkles in the grass and the early birds are just taking flight. There are no butterflies to be seen.

"I don't see them anymore," Leper says into the frosty morning air. "Not with my eyes, at least."

Brinker makes a movement to suggest something but merely shifts on the bench, his eyes frozen on the reflection of the morning sun on the still waters. Leper says that is a good thing that there are wetlands like this because then the water can flow slower and the dirt that gets mixed up with it can settle to the bottom and the water can come out clean at the other end. There are a lot of bad things that get in the way, like Ms. Carson says, but now people are now aware of it.

"I'll come home with you," Brinker says, interrupting Leper in mid explanation.

Leper looks him, a blank look on his face before he smiles with surprising innocence, as if he had never enlisted at all. "I wanted to send for you," he says, "but I settled for Gene because I thought he would understand. Because he loved too." Then, "I think my mother would like you."

The dew in the grass presses against their shoes as Brinker leans over to Leper, but it never soaks through because their soles are too thick for that.

Owari

Note: Theblackmisrules and I bonded over rape. In other words, we both agree that Leper was probably raped in his time in the army and this is my attempt to try and explain that. I like this pairing too much for my own good. Maybe even more than Finny/Gene, which shouldn't be possible since it's what the book's about. In other business, I recommend reading the short story Phineas because I feel like the Finny in that one is much more interesting. Review, please.


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